Backpacking Panama City ,
Racing Through Central America
Eight Months On the Road
By David Rice
Welcome Aboard
On a backpacking trip it is not so much the looks of a hostel
as where the hostel is located that gets my eye when I am
racing through a country. I found just such a place in San
Jose, Costa Rica, a hostel just across from the bus station
where I could get an early shot to Panama City.
Once in Panama City I put into the Prima Vera Hostel and
started a search for boat passage. I would take any area of
South America but expected to head for Cartegena. Roads
south of Panama through the Darien Gap are rough and
according to some reports dangerous and impassible in
the rainy season.
Panama City
I checked other hostel bulletin boards and finally found a
note from a German guy who knew a Frenchman who
owned a sailboat and, out of desperation after running out
of money on a world cruise, was taking paying passenger
to Cartegena.
I emailed and waited, enjoying Panama city in the interim.
Such a lively place, the life seethes on Avenue Espania
where you can find anything: hostels, gambling casinos,
girls, music, street food, and a lot else going on. You also
find the cheapest taxis anywhere: $2.00 for any trip, even a
45-minute ride to the airport.
In the morning, I caught a bus to the locks on the Panama
Canal to watch the ships go through. The normal sized
boats go through and in the morning and the supertankers
go through in the afternoon. It is great watching the boats go
through and imagining where they have been and where
they are going. Who is aboard; where do they live; what do
they believe; are they happy.
Welcome Aboard
The French sailboat captain responded after a day with
departure date and a, “Welcome aboard, meet at the docks
near Colon in three days with all you luggage and we will
leave.”
When I arrived at the port near a Spanish stone fortress, I
could see the boat anchored in the bay at Portobelo. He
came in on an inflatable, I put my backpack aboard, and we
headed out to his sailboat. With hardly a flourish we were
underway, headed for Colombia via the Archipelago de
San Blas.
Pirates still roam the Carribbean and not the movie kind.
These boats all have weapons aboard and although the
French captain never showed his, I knew that the former
kitchen equipment salesman from Paris was armed
because one cabinet on the boat always remained locked.
I stowed my backpack below decks and relaxed. At first the
trip was idyllic and I looked forward to an enjoyable five-day
cruise, that is for the first two hours.
I have been on the water before but I am no sailor and had
no idea when we set sail on the glassy waters of Colon Bay
that, before long, the ocean would turn our deck into such a
frenzy of pitching and heaving that I would wish to die. Once
we hit rough water, I spent the rest of the day and all of that
night hanging over the side puking. When there was nothing
left to throw up, I upchucked phlegm until I nearly dried up.
The deck rolled to the side and I swear the mast nearly
smacked the wave tops. Then the front of the boat would
suddenly pitch up and I would hang on to the stainless steel
rail with a death grip and just as quickly, the boat would
pitch down violently and come crashing into a wave with a
shudder.
By dawn there was little left of me and I prayed for a merciful
death. As the sun rose, however, we came miraculously into
the lee of an island and knifed through glass calm water
where the captain dropped anchor in a sheltered cove. I
jumped into the jade lagoon with my clothes on to clean up
and within a few minutes, I felt well enough to think about
breakfast.
That turned out to be a good omen and a fortuitous spiff-up
for me because later in the day we would be invited to dine
with a Queen.
Racing Through Central America
Eight Months On the Road
By David Rice
Welcome Aboard
On a backpacking trip it is not so much the looks of a hostel
as where the hostel is located that gets my eye when I am
racing through a country. I found just such a place in San
Jose, Costa Rica, a hostel just across from the bus station
where I could get an early shot to Panama City.
Once in Panama City I put into the Prima Vera Hostel and
started a search for boat passage. I would take any area of
South America but expected to head for Cartegena. Roads
south of Panama through the Darien Gap are rough and
according to some reports dangerous and impassible in
the rainy season.
Panama City
I checked other hostel bulletin boards and finally found a
note from a German guy who knew a Frenchman who
owned a sailboat and, out of desperation after running out
of money on a world cruise, was taking paying passenger
to Cartegena.
I emailed and waited, enjoying Panama city in the interim.
Such a lively place, the life seethes on Avenue Espania
where you can find anything: hostels, gambling casinos,
girls, music, street food, and a lot else going on. You also
find the cheapest taxis anywhere: $2.00 for any trip, even a
45-minute ride to the airport.
In the morning, I caught a bus to the locks on the Panama
Canal to watch the ships go through. The normal sized
boats go through and in the morning and the supertankers
go through in the afternoon. It is great watching the boats go
through and imagining where they have been and where
they are going. Who is aboard; where do they live; what do
they believe; are they happy.
Welcome Aboard
The French sailboat captain responded after a day with
departure date and a, “Welcome aboard, meet at the docks
near Colon in three days with all you luggage and we will
leave.”
When I arrived at the port near a Spanish stone fortress, I
could see the boat anchored in the bay at Portobelo. He
came in on an inflatable, I put my backpack aboard, and we
headed out to his sailboat. With hardly a flourish we were
underway, headed for Colombia via the Archipelago de
San Blas.
Pirates still roam the Carribbean and not the movie kind.
These boats all have weapons aboard and although the
French captain never showed his, I knew that the former
kitchen equipment salesman from Paris was armed
because one cabinet on the boat always remained locked.
I stowed my backpack below decks and relaxed. At first the
trip was idyllic and I looked forward to an enjoyable five-day
cruise, that is for the first two hours.
I have been on the water before but I am no sailor and had
no idea when we set sail on the glassy waters of Colon Bay
that, before long, the ocean would turn our deck into such a
frenzy of pitching and heaving that I would wish to die. Once
we hit rough water, I spent the rest of the day and all of that
night hanging over the side puking. When there was nothing
left to throw up, I upchucked phlegm until I nearly dried up.
The deck rolled to the side and I swear the mast nearly
smacked the wave tops. Then the front of the boat would
suddenly pitch up and I would hang on to the stainless steel
rail with a death grip and just as quickly, the boat would
pitch down violently and come crashing into a wave with a
shudder.
By dawn there was little left of me and I prayed for a merciful
death. As the sun rose, however, we came miraculously into
the lee of an island and knifed through glass calm water
where the captain dropped anchor in a sheltered cove. I
jumped into the jade lagoon with my clothes on to clean up
and within a few minutes, I felt well enough to think about
breakfast.
That turned out to be a good omen and a fortuitous spiff-up
for me because later in the day we would be invited to dine
with a Queen.
| Panama City Backpacking South America, Eight Months On the Road By David Rice |
| Backpacking Panama City Page Five |
David Rice Photo
 | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |